Epilogue?
by Dowantasaurus
Summary: With the Enclave defeated and Project Purity a success, what does fate have left for The Lone Wanderer?


It had been three years since the incident at the Jefferson Memorial, and the Wanderer still had trouble believing all that had happened. The American monument now stood as a beacon of hope for the people of the wastes, Project Purity had been a resounding success, and with the Enclave in full retreat and infant birth rates up, things were beginning to look good for the first time in two hundred years. The last time he picked up a gun was to put down a rabid mole rat that had strayed too close to the farm. Chaste Acres Dairy Farm was now the Waters of Life Apple Orchard.

After months of studying Harold, Madison Li had concocted a serum that promoted the growth of vegetation in even the most irradiated areas without any discernable draw backs. Harold had been reluctant at first; still bitter that the Wanderer had refused to end his self-piteous existence, but eventually he relented. In the end, he seemed almost enthusiastic about restoring life to the Wasteland. The apple trees were growing wonderfully; mere saplings for now, but one day they would bear fruit that none had tasted in centuries.

Paradise Falls was no more. At least, the Paradise Falls that free men across the wastes had come to fear and loathe was no more. After the Wanderer had cleared the town of slavers and ended the tyrannical rule of Eulogy Jones, the inhabitants of Big Town picked up shop and moved to the safer more fortified location. It now served as a trading hub and a relatively secure place for the soon-to-be Mungo's of Little Lamplight to move on to.

What of the Wanderer? Life was far from easy after the defeat of the Enclave and the destruction of Raven Rock. For a time, he served as a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, conducting sweeps and deep recon with the Lyon's Pride. He had made and lost a lot of friends. Reilly's Rangers used to accompany them on their deep infiltration missions, more than eager to map uncharted territory to the North. Combat was unavoidable. A Super Mutant ambush saw the passing of Butcher, and Reilly never was the same after his death. She stopped smiling, and that spark of life that had once lit up her eyes was replaced with a burning hatred. The Wanderer knew that hatred well.

However, things weren't always grim in the Brotherhood. After the Battle of Adam's Air Force Base, he and Sarah had grown close. He started to see the human side of her, the little quirks and imperfections that made her real to him. She loved to gaze at the stars when the rest of the Pride wasn't looking. Kodiak always ribbed her about it, but the Wanderer had always found it kind of endearing. They'd stay up for hours, until the first light of dawn began to crest the horizon, simply watching the sky and exchanging stories. Each time a comrade fell, they gave a silent prayer, thankful it wasn't the other.

He still remembered the exact moment he realized he was in love with her. They had just finished mopping up a heavily fortified Enclave observation post. It had been an up-hill battle over nonnegotiable terrain against a numerically and technologically superior foe. In the end, the tenacity and experience of the Pride won the day, but not without sacrifice. Knight Captain Colvin and Paladin Tristan had fallen, along with a number of less experienced soldiers. She was standing atop a collapsed bunker, gazing wistfully at a fistful of holotags. Great billowing pillars of smoke rose from the smoldering ruins, the fading daylight painting the sky a brilliant fiery red that melted to a sherbet orange. Her cherubic face was smattered with dirt; clean lines tracing her cheeks were fresh tears had fallen, her chin-lengthy blonde hair lifting with the breeze. She lifted her gaze to the Wander, her foggy blue eyes cradled by wetness. There was so much pain in the look she gave him, and her mouth began to quiver with the swelling hurt. He comforted her as best he could, and it was then that they shared their first bittersweet kiss and sentiments of love.

It wasn't until they returned to the Citadel that they allowed themselves to dare to dream about something that once seemed so impossible: the future.

Elder Lyon's gave his blessings, and they were wed August 14th, 2279. The entire Capital Wasteland celebrated the union of two of their greatest hero's, and a year later, they would celebrate the birth of their first child, James. With the need for the specialized soldiers of the Pride diminishing, they were granted a brief reprieve to start their life together. They decided to move to Chaste Acres, a place the Wanderer had remembered from his travels.

With so much having happened, it seemed almost absurd that the Wanderer was just happy to be standing where it all began. The weather was mild, and he stood before the Jefferson Memorial in a pair of canvas breaches and a tee shirt, his hands stuffed lackadaisically in his pockets. He was admiring the inscription carved in flawless marble that the people of the Wastes commissioned a year ago.

"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give to him that is thirsty of the fountain of the water of life freely. – Revelations 21:6"

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, a brief squeeze. "Your mother would have been so proud," his father commented, coming to stand beside him.

The Wanderer smiled, nodding his head slowly. Three years ago, he wouldn't have dreamed he'd ever see his father again, let alone share a moment like this. He glanced at his father. Time was not being kind to him, but he could still make out the unmistakable features that he himself shared. His father drew in a deep breath, turning to him and giving a tip of his head towards Sarah, who sat a mere fifty feet away in a pretty yellow sun dress, cradling young James close to her bosom.

"Come on, son. Let's go home."

He was about to do just that when a searing pain burned at his temples, bringing him to double over. It throbbed and pulsed, wracking his brain as his fingers rubbed purposefully at his head, trying to soothe it away. At last it slowly melted, and with its retreat his eyes opened.

"Come on, son. Let's go home," he heard his father say, again.

He blinked confusedly, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. His father stood behind him, exactly where he had been a mere ten seconds ago. Sarah was still minding the baby, as though nothing had ever happened. This wasn't the first time this had occurred. Indeed, since plumbing the experimental vaults things just had a surreal quality to them at times. He shook it off, forcing a smile.

"Okay, dad," he murmured.

Stanislaus Braun smiled his crows smile. The boys' readings were good. Occasionally an anomaly would pop up, but for the most part the youth was completely unaware of what had happened. The Chinese invasion failsafe had been a ploy. A scientist of his caliber didn't just leave data destroying kill switches laying around waiting for the first snot with a neuron firing to come along and screw up his years of research. He had since tired of Tranquility Lane, and after plumbing the teen's brain came across a new simulation with tantalizing possibilities. The Wanderer was smarter than most. Out of all the denizens of Tranquility Lane, he alone came the closest to ending the fun. Using data pulled directly from the boys memories, he was able to compile a new world, a Wasteland re-imagined.

Occasionally he'd run a scenario. Raiders would attack the farmstead, execute James in front of his screaming son, and as if that weren't enough, they'd ravage his young wife Sarah to death. The Wanderer would scream for hours on end. When his voice was finally hoarse from crying out, he'd have the baby literally ripped apart, straight down the middle. For now he let him and his little "family" head home. These moments of peace were what really punctuated the violence that would come; the suffering would be exquisite.

Yet, despite everything he had put the Wanderer through he sensed that his mind never truly buckled. He showed a remarkable mental resiliency, a sort of indomitable will that perplexed and infuriated Dr. Braun. He remained optimistic, however. One day, the boy would break. Oh, he would break.


End file.
